


A Day at the Loft

by Elisabeth Hurst (Leela), jo rittenhouse (batdina)



Category: Forever Knight
Genre: Angst, Gen, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-15
Updated: 2009-11-15
Packaged: 2017-10-02 21:16:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leela/pseuds/Elisabeth%20Hurst, https://archiveofourown.org/users/batdina/pseuds/jo%20rittenhouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What really happened at the end of Last Knight? Maybe this is the answer?</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Day at the Loft

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written in 1996. The following are the original intro notes for this story:
> 
> Jo and I both stated in our initial spoiler post about Last Knight that we believed Natalie was dead because we couldn't think of a way for her to be resurrected. Well, we thought a little harder, and the following is what we came up with. Let us know if it works for you as well.
> 
> This story is dedicated to Laurie F, who has been waiting on the edge of her desk chair for it. You can breathe now, Laurie.

Nick knelt over Natalie's prone form, head bowed, braced for the impact and pain of the stake.

"Damn you, Nicholas!" Lacroix stood above, with the spear aimed directly at Nick's heart. Pain and anger warred within the older vampire's soul. Pain for the suffering which his favourite child was inflicting unnecessarily on both of them; anger at being forced to decide whether or not Nicholas should die.

"Damn you!" Lacroix hissed through gritted teeth a few minutes later. He flung the spear through the air. It pierced the exact centre of a painting, and hung quivering. "I will _not_ kill you. Do you understand? I will not do it."

"Please?" Nick whispered. Without Lacroix's help, he would have to continue living with the knowledge that he had killed Natalie. He wanted to die, but could not kill himself. If he could have, he would have walked into the sunlight many years ago.

"Do you never listen to me? I will not waste your life in this manner." Lacroix spun away from Nicholas in disgust. "I will return for you at sunset. Be ready to leave."

Lacroix flew out the open skylight and into the rapidly lightening sky. There were still enough bottles of blood secreted away in his retreat near Casa Loma to heal any damage that the sun might cause ... and a slight singeing was preferable to a day spent trapped in the loft. Natalie Lambert would hover at the edge of death for another hour or two, and Nicholas would not have enough sense to ignore her and get a good day's rest.

As soon as Lacroix left, Nick collapsed in a heap next to Natalie. He allowed free rein to the emotions that he had been suppressing all day; his entire body shuddered from the sobs that racked him; tears poured down his face. He was barely able to think any more. Too much had happened in too short a time.

First, Tracy's death. At the deepest level, he knew that it had not been completely his fault. Not interfering with someone negotiating with a gunman was one of the first things taught in the police academy. Tracy had ignored that rule, and suffered the consequences. Yet, if he had confided in her about his vampire nature, perhaps she would not have stepped out of hiding. How he wished she had given him enough reason to trust her.

Had Nat been right at the hospital, or should he have ignored her and brought his partner across? Unlike Schanke, Tracy knew about vampires; had seemed to care about Vachon despite his dark nature. She had been so full of life, so eager to push herself and experience new things. Would she have wanted to live ... even if it meant life as a vampire? Now he would never know.

A faint moan reached his ears. Barely more than a breath of air, even his vampire hearing almost missed the sound. His hands fumbled across the floor. He pulled away as soon as his fingers touched Natalie's cool skin, but he reached out again. Her heart beat slowly, with great effort, struggling to circulate what little blood remained in her veins. So close to death, and yet she still lived ... but not for much longer.

He had made his decision. He would not condemn Nat to a life of darkness.

A shaft of pain stabbed through him as he remembered her words at the hospital, "Why is it so easy to consider bringing her across, and so impossible to consider bringing me?" At the time he had only thought of Tracy, of Nat's selfishness in denying Tracy a chance at life. Now, the other meaning behind her words struck him with the force of a stake in the heart. Did Nat really want him to bring her across? Had she resented his refusal to do so?

He ignored the answers that circulated through his body with Natalie's blood.

Nick crawled away towards the refrigerator. He pulled himself up and wrenched open the door. Using the counter to keep himself upright, he retrieved three bottles from the back. They were all that remained of the case of human blood Lacroix had brought over the last time he had visited the loft. Although the older vampire had not said anything, Nick had known that Lacroix had needed company support and reassurance to help him deal with the recent actions and death of his daughter/Master Divia.

Strange how he could talk to Lacroix now, without fear or resentment, after avoiding him for so many centuries. Somehow over the past two years in Toronto, Nick had learned more about his Master than in the preceding centuries. Knowledge had led to understanding; understanding to compassion; and compassion to friendship. They had far more in common than Nick had ever dreamed.

Nick placed two of the bottles on the counter and drained one completely. Perhaps if he drank enough, he would no longer be able to see the images that suffused the blood in his veins; no longer be able to feel her vitality and energy flowing through him; no longer be able to sense what havoc he had brought to her life over the past six years. She had given up so much to try to help him: friends, family, even the sun that brought her so much pleasure. All she had asked was his love and trust in return.

 

He had not been able to give her that. He did not even know if he was capable of loving in the same way as mortals. The way she had needed and demanded.

Against his will, Nick's eyes were drawn to Natalie. She lay where he had discarded her. Her head to one side, hiding the marks his fangs had left in her neck. If he did not know better, he would have thought she was sleeping peacefully.

Peace ... would he ever know what it was like? He had made so many mistakes over the centuries, cut short so many lives. In the past hundred years, he had sworn again and again not to kill. Each time he had broken that vow. Oh, he had had good reasons, or so they seemed at the time. But time always brought doubts.

Another sigh escaped Natalie's lips. Softer, more fragile than the last, it brushed his ears with agony. She had moved a little closer to death.

Nick seized the second bottle and brought it to his lips. Fangs extended to remove the cork. And yet, he hesitated. Could he let Natalie die without experiencing her completely. Fragments of her life and soul remained within him. If he let them go without acknowledging them, he would lose her forever.

Nick shut his eyes and allowed the memories to rise and take over. As he had done so many times before, he let them float through his mind in whatever order they chose...

Natalie and Richard as children, laughing and playing in the sand...

terror warring with desire when she had finally convinced Spark to bring her across...

walking onto the podium at graduation and looking out over the crowd...

the hope and jealousy when Richard had returned to life as a vampire; devastation when her only brother had had to be destroyed...

seeing a movie with an old boyfriend...

cowering before her grandmother, praying that this time she would not be hit...

swimming in the ocean beneath a brilliant blue sky and a sun too bright to look at...

the fear and curiosity when a dead man had sat up on her examining table...

curling up on the couch, eating popcorn, watching television with only Sydney for company...

the anger and relief when Nick had killed Spark before he could touch her...

using Nick's blood to help a young man regain his memories and his abilities...

the desperate need and dread that had driven her to seek the solace of death and rebirth in Nick's arms...

"Noooo!" The word reverberated through Nick, pulling him back from Natalie's life. He struggled to regain control and won.

He stared at Natalie. How long had he remained there, lost in her memories? Had she moved? Perhaps. He could not tell.

Slowly, painfully, one step at a time, he stumbled across to her side. Did she still breathe? He dropped to his knees and held his free hand over her mouth. Just when he thought she was dead, he felt the feathering of air over his palm, detected the faintest of pulses.

She had wanted to die.

He owed her his life.

She was his friend.

He did not love her.

She trusted him.

He had used her.

She had pushed him to do what she wanted.

He had not walked away when she asked for more than he could give.

She was his best friend.

He owed her his life.

With a scream of anguish, Nick turned Natalie's head and stared at the red marks on her neck.

Moving slowly, every motion requiring an enormous amount of effort, he brought his wrist up to his mouth and tore a gash with his fangs.

How could he condemn her to his hell?

He licked the wound and watched it heal.

Natalie convulsed slightly, teetering on the edge of the void.

How could he let her die?

Nick threw his head back and howled.

Her heart beat once and then faltered.

She was his friend.

Instinctively, Nick ripped at his wrist with his fangs and held it out over her mouth. Blood dripped slowly, welling on her closed lips.

He waited patiently, watching the fluid seep down her cheek and onto the floor.

Just when he was almost ready to give up, Natalie's mouth parted. She swallowed, again and again. Her tongue flicked out and licked up the drops remaining on her skin. Her arm reached up and seized his wrist, pulling it against her mouth. She drank.

Vertigo pulled at the edges of Nick's soul, and he wrenched his arm out of Natalie's grasp. "Enough," he said hoarsely.

Her eyes flickered open. She smiled, rolled over onto her side and sank into sleep.

* * * * *

Lacroix returned shortly before sunset, bearing several bottles. He set them on the table, and handed one to Nick. "I thought you might be hungry."

"Thank you." Nick pried off the cork and gulped down the blood.

"Where are your bags?" Lacroix's eyes swept over the main floor of the loft, then settled on Natalie. "Oh, Nicholas. You didn't?"

"Didn't what?"

"I thought you had decided to let her die." Lacroix stood over Natalie and glared at Nick pointedly. "Now I suppose we can't leave until Aristotle has created a new identity for Dr. Lambert too. Well, you can pay his fees for that."

"I'm hungry." Natalie complained. She sat up and bared her fangs at Lacroix.

Nick opened a fresh bottle and handed it to her, rapidly pulling back his hand before she could sink her teeth into his wrist again.

She guzzled down the contents of that bottle, followed by two more in rapid succession. Then she got to her feet and seized a fourth.

"Nat?" Nick moved forward hesitantly.

Natalie's expression froze Nick in his tracks. Her irate gaze raked him from head to foot and back up again. She stalked over and slapped him on the face. "You son of a bitch! You were going to let me die!"

Nick's mouth dropped open; he stared at Natalie like a rabbit caught in car headlights.

Lacroix chuckled.

"You sink your teeth into my neck, treat me to a slide show of your most memorable experiences of brutality and sex, then leave me lying on the floor like last night's empties." Natalie growled. "That was the last straw, Nick. I'm not going to be your doormat any more."

"I never thought ..." Nick began.

"That's your problem, you know. You never think." Natalie snorted in disgust.

"Children, children." Lacroix smiled. "While watching you fight is most entertaining, we must take our leave before the authorities wonder why Nicholas has not arrived at the police station yet."

"Let's go then." Natalie spun on her heel and grabbed her coat.

"Fine." Nick glanced longingly at the piano, then slammed open the elevator door. "Guess I'll just have to leave everything behind ... again."

Lacroix stayed in the centre of the room. "Is there any particular reason why you have chosen to leave by the door?"

Nick flung his arms around Natalie's waist and launched into the air, crashing through the skylight. "None at all."

As Lacroix lifted off to follow in their wake, it occurred to him that no matter what the next few years might bring in his relationship with his most troubled fledgling, they were bound at the very least to be interesting. And that, of course, was life at its very best.

The end ... nope ... a new beginning!


End file.
